


Easy Like

by kalliel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Banter banter banter, Dirty Talk, Flash Fic, Happy Ending, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 11, food art, food innuendoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 14:20:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7687804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalliel/pseuds/kalliel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean builds Sam a courtship sundae--ice cream in the shape of a gigantic dick, whipped cream on top, bulbous cherries, the works. Sam responds in turn. </p>
<p>Sam/Dean, post-11x08 "Just My Imagination."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy Like

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morrezela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/gifts).



  
Art by the magnificent siennavie!

  


"It's an adult dessert," Dean says, arms crossed over his chest. Sam would call it preening, but Dean's not exactly dressed for that.

"So, there's Bailey's in... that?"

Dean's arms uncross and his jaw goes flat. "No. Why the fuck would we own Bailey's?"

"I dunno, because--that?!"

"Please, if shrimpy Sammy was man enough to want marshmallow nachos, you can handle a sundae."

"It's shaped like a dick."

"And it's melting. Come on, you're giving him blue balls."

"You have to go down on it first."

"I-- Wait, what?"

"You heard me. Show me what you got, tough guy."

Dean adjusts the collar of his Dead Guy Robe. "Is this an audition?"

Sam smirks. "I dunno, Dean. I thought you said it was a sundae." 

"Well, it's about to be a milkshake, if you don't hurry up."

"Even better."

Dean stares at him. "You know, this is a gift. It's goddamn poetry."

Sam pushes the bowl towards the edge of the table. Dean doesn't sit down, but he does loom closer. 

"You know how people get puppies for Christmas, and then they all end up at the shelter because the new owner realizes that puppies are a lot of fucking work and they're loud and you have to keep feeding them?" Sam asks. He knocks his feet up onto the table, flexes black-socked toes at the edge of the confection. 

Dean wavers.

"Do you just watch infomercials in your down time or what?" he says, but he's still staring at Sam's socks. "And are you saying I pee everywhere?"

Sam wriggles his big toe. 

The tiniest speck of lint wanders down towards--

And then Dean snatches it from the table. He looks genuinely protective of it. Like, Sam's seen that look. 

That last time Sam saw that look Dean had a gun drawn on some guy who'd drawn on Sam.

"My god, you're weird."

"Do you have any idea how long this took?" Dean insists.

Sam takes his feet off the table and settles his elbows against his thighs. Leans forward. "I mean the whole thing. What is this, some kind of intervention? Is this how you pick up girls? Like, what."

Dean's still cradling his creation, though it's going a little flaccid now, puddled ice cream collecting at the edges of the bowl. "I don't chase after girls who've outgrown their childhood," Dean says.

Then he pauses.

"That--sounded really creepy," he says.

"You're holding a sugary dick statue. Everything out of your mouth sounds creepy."

"I love you."

Sam watches the depression of his own fingers as he presses them together, one by one. He hears Dean swallow. 

Water drips from the kitchen sink.

His watch ticks forward.

The heater shudders.

"I know, Dean," Sam says slowly. He looks up.

He tries to focus on Dean's face because if he looks at the dick sundae he's going to lose it. 

"You know it wouldn't be just sex, right? Can you handle that?"

Dean looks genuinely hurt. "After everything we've been through, you're asking me that now?"

And shit, Sam really shouldn't be toying with him like this. He catches a glimpse of the flaccid dick and bursts out laughing.

Dean blinks.

Sam can't stop laughing. It's all too much. The dick, Dean's face, something just clicks at the back of his throat and he can't hold it in any longer. "If you--can eat--that whole thing--" Sam chokes out between fits of hysterics.

"How 'bout I shove this down your pants, huh? Then we'll see who's laughing!" Dean does his best impression of himself angry, but it's impossible to take that seriously. Well, the threat's probably real, Sam reasons; which is why the anger isn't. 

"If you can eat that whole thing, then maybe--"

"You're a giant dick," says Dean.

"I know," weeps Sam. He's fucking crying, he can't stop. He's not even sure what part of this is funny anymore, but he's having the time of his life.

Then Dean brings the bowl between his face and Sam's, and says, "Fucking watch me."

 

\--

 

"Dean, are you okay?"

"Is that toast?"

"Rye. You want some?"

"Ugh."

"I can't believe you ate that entire thing."

"Waste not, want not."

Sam smirks. "So what, I'm the bottom of the barrel? Is that it?"

"Do you have any idea how much time I spent on that?" Dean repeats. 

He drags himself out of the chair and wanders lurchingly towards the kitchen. His fingers drag along the surface of the table, like he's trying to keep his place in the room. He really does look ill.

"Seriously, are you okay?"

"If I drop into a diabetic coma, it's your goddamn loss, Sammy."

"That's not really an--"

"YOUR GODDAMN LOSS."

Sam hears the sink start running. 

 

\--

 

"Can I show you something?"

"Is it your dick?"

"No. It's an affogato. Get out of the sink."

Dean turns the water off and wipes his hands down his face. He takes a deep breath as he straightens up.

Sam waits.

"What," Dean says.

Sam waits.

"Oh, _hell_ no; I made my Sistine Chapel. You gotta make up your own innuendo for that one, kiddo. Affogato yourself."

Sam hands Dean the extra shot of espresso, which he takes with hasty gratitude.

"Okay. It's an adult dessert," Sam says simply.

Then he pours his piping shot over his cup of ice cream, and Dean's eyes go wide. The potential innuendoes seem limitless.

"What the f--"

Sam grins devilishly--and that's not an adjective Sam takes lightly. He lets Dean let his imagination run wild.

"Your room?" Sam suggests.

Dean hesitates. "I just did the sheets."

"Okay, remember what I said about the Christmas puppies, and being high maintenance, and--"

"Remember what I said about blow me?"

"You mean that foot-tall dick sundae? Remember when I said suck it, and then you--"

"Sam, I'm like this close to biting you."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

 

\--

 

Dean's lips taste like sugar.


End file.
